


Welcome Distractions

by Inell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A couple of years later, Bickering, Cross-Generation Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Facials, Future Fic, M/M, Nogitsune Aftermath, Of the sexual nature, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Stiles gets a gun pointed at him, Taunting, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5791174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is having a rough few days, and getting sent to scout an area for the latest threat to Beacon Hills with Chris Argent isn't going to make it any better. Or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Distractions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [places](https://archiveofourown.org/users/places/gifts).



> For Places' prompt: So I'm here, requesting the Chris/Stiles :3! If you want to and have the time, can I please have hurt/comfort? I am all for emotional makeouts and sex but the rating and setting's up to you. See where this pair takes you!
> 
> Not sure how well the hurt/comfort is, but I hope you enjoy this anyway! 
> 
> Please let me know if I missed any tags!

It’s one of those days when his skin just doesn’t seem to fit right. Stiles gets them occasionally, has gotten so used to them since the whole nogitsune thing that no one even realizes he’s lying when he says he’s fine. This is day three, though, and he isn’t entirely sure when he last slept for longer than about fifty minutes. That’s traditionally how long it takes before a nightmare---a memory?---overtakes his subconscious and has him gasping for breath as he wakes in a tangle of sweat damp sheets.

One days like this, it’s easier not to sleep.

Stiles figures it’s pretty lucky that he’s never really been one for sleeping much anyway because he can function reasonably well with some Red Bull, Adderall, and a few cat naps. The only negative, really, is that said combination generally leaves his heartbeat racing just enough for Scott to shoot him worried puppy dog eyes whenever they’re together. It’s almost a relief that they’re dealing with a Creature Crisis of the Month ™ because Scott’s so distracted with missing hikers and bloody entrails that he hasn’t noticed Stiles is exhausted and totally faking everything tonight.

No one has.

There’s probably something to be said for learning how to lie to were-creatures and assorted supernatural beings, but Stiles isn’t exactly sure what. Lydia has given him a couple of concerned looks, but that’s mostly been after he’s destroyed a theory about the possible creature currently inhabiting the forest up north. She never is too appreciative when he rattles off facts about stuff that he really shouldn’t know even if he’d memorized the bestiary. Personally, he doesn’t much care if there’s lingering shit in his head that can actually be useful. It’s all the bad stuff left behind that he could do without.

When everyone starts to get up and move, he realizes he’s been zoned out and missed the entire last few minutes of conversation. Everyone’s pairing up, but it’s not in terms of the relationships unless Jordan and Scott have something going on he doesn’t know about. Which, huh, he might not mind that imagery if Scott wasn’t practically his brother and the whole thing wouldn’t seem incestuous. He runs his fingers through his hair, making a mental note to get it cut soon, as he glances around to try to figure out who he’s working with tonight. 

“You’re with me, kid.”

Stiles whips his head around in surprise to stare at Chris Argent. He’s been in town for about three months this time, longer than he has been since the whole Theo drama over a year ago, and they never work together unless it’s a pack-wide type thing. So, yeah, it’s Stiles who avoids Chris because of the whole killing his daughter thing even if it wasn’t really him but it sorta was. It just makes things weird. He doesn’t want to be alone with him in case there’s some residual revenge scheme planned. Because if anyone could be patient to get revenge, it would be Chris Argent. He’s scary in the best way if he’s on your side and the worst way if he’s not.

Not that Stiles plans to tell Scott that his pack seem like a bunch of puppies compared to the hardened hunter who has nothing at all to lose anymore.

“Right. Okay then.” Stiles scans the room to try to find where Scott went so he can make a few choice faces of displeasure but Scott obviously realized this combination was a disaster and is hiding somewhere. Everyone else is already leaving, so he stands up and follows Chris out of the house.

Chris is driving, and he barely gives Stiles time to get into the SUV and buckle up before he’s pulling away from the curb. “So, did you hear any of that, kid?”

“I’m nineteen. I think calling me ‘kid’ is a rather childish attempt at intimidating me,” he says dryly, totally avoiding the question while also showing Chris that he’s not scared of him. Even if he is. A little.

“You’re nineteen, Stiles. Don’t you think it’s rather childish to avoid answering a question by trying to start a fight?” Cold blue eyes look at him for a moment, calling him out on his ploy, before focusing on the road.

“Fighting isn’t childish. It can be emotionally satisfying, completely justified, or even sexy if it’s foreplay,” he points out, tapping his fingers against his thigh in tune to some old song playing in his head that he can’t ever remember actually hearing before. His fingers jerk slightly at that realization, but he can’t get the tune out of his head.

Chris is speeding now, headed out of Beacon Hills and driving north. Stiles wishes he knew where they were supposed to be going, but he can’t ask without admitting he hadn’t been listening. Chris glances at him again. “Or it can be a deflection to cover something up.” He snorts. “Anyway, you’ve already answered my question and confirmed what I suspected. You weren’t listening at all. Even your responses to Scott were practiced and half-assed.”

Stiles tenses slightly because he feels like he’s in dangerous territory right now. “Dude, you’re nuts. Old age must be making you crazy or something. I was totally paying attention. I managed to rule out four different possibilities, in fact.”

“Well good, because I seem to be getting forgetful in my _old age_.” Chris actually gives him a lazy smile that would totally be crooked and charming if it weren’t for the sharp edges that Stiles can tell are there. “Where is it we’re going again?”

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek and stares at the road ahead of them. “North,” he says bluntly. “We’re supposed to go north.” He thinks about Scott and the pack and the location of missing hikers mixed with Scott being Scott and figures he can make a good guess. “The northern edge near the lake, close to where the camp was found for the engaged couple.”

Chris’ smile tightens, his eyes narrowing. “Good guess, but wrong. I volunteered for us to go further west, near the waterfall where the third body was found. Now, are you going to tell me what the fuck is happening with you?”

“What’s my other option?” Stiles doesn’t really think it’s fair that he got that question wrong because Scott totally would have suggested he go to the camp site. “Scott told me to hit the camp site, didn’t he?”

“He also told you to go with Liam before I stepped in to claim you and the waterfall.” Chris shrugs a shoulder, and Stiles watches the movement, gaze lingering on the scruffy cheek and deceptively relaxed posture. He knows Chris is like a predator lying in wait, ready to attack and kill when his prey is sight. Right now, Stiles feels more like prey than he has in a long time. Probably since Peter was creeping on him constantly, only that was more weird than scary.

“Claim me, huh?” Stiles forces a laugh. “Sounds kinky. Are you going to make me call you Daddy?” Only the fact that he’s on the defense has him ready and alert. He’s able to duck back and grab Chris’ fist that’s aimed for his face. “You don’t want to do that, old man.”

The vehicle swerves before it hits the shoulder, tires kicking up dust as Chris pulls his arm free. He hits the brake hard enough to knock Stiles’ head against the window. When he straightens up, there’s a gun pointed at him, and cold blue eyes watching him closely. “Give me answers, kid, or I’ll do whatever it takes to protect the others.”

“Go ahead and shoot me.” Stiles moves his head closer to the barrel. “You know you want to. You’ve wanted to since that monster wearing my face killed Allison. Her blood’s on my hands. Hers and so many others. So do it. Pull the trigger.”

Chris’ eyes narrow. “Tell me what’s going on with you,” he says again, voice low and gruff as he holds the gun steady.

“You really want to know?” Stiles scoffs. “I haven’t sleep more than a couple of hours in three days. When I close my eyes, I see shit that I shouldn’t even know about, much less have appear in my dreams. I hear music in my head that’s so familiar I can hum the tune but I know that I’ve never heard any of it before. I’m having a few bad days, _Christopher_ , and having a gun pointed at me by a pack ally is just icing on the cake. Now pull the damn trigger or put it down.”

“Are you a danger to anyone else?” Chris’ lips are pressed tight together as he frowns. “Or yourself?”

“If I was, I’d have already taken care of it myself,” Stiles admits quietly. “Scott certainly can’t do it. That’s already been shown, which, yay for me being alive right now, but he’s too sentimental to stop me if I ever became a danger again. I’m not, whether you want to believe me or not.”

Chris stares at him in silence for several long moments, but Stiles refuses to look away. Finally, he lowers the gun. “Allison’s blood isn’t on your hands, kid. Anyway, she was as bad as Scott when it came to doing whatever it takes to keep you alive. You walking around like a zombie and carrying all that guilt is doing a disservice to her memory. You need to stop that shit.”

“Sure thing, Daddy. It’s just that easy.” Stiles can’t resist a snotty quip as he shifts in his seat and stares out the side window. “Can we go now or do you need to point any other weapons at me?”

Chris makes an annoyed noise, but he doesn’t say anything as he pulls the car back onto the road. They drive several miles before he breaks the silence. “Are you alert enough to finish our mission tonight?”

“Just because I’m going through a very brief period of crazy insomnia doesn’t mean I’m weak and helpless.”

“Kid, you’re the furthest thing from weak and helpless that I know.”

Stiles arches a brow and studies Chris’ profile. “That almost sounds like a compliment.”

“You’re also stubborn, reckless, and fool-hardy.”

“Ah. There’s the rest of it. I knew it was too good to be true.”

There’s a short bark of laughter that startles him. “You’re just lucky that the rest of your pack isn’t overly intelligent, and that Lydia is distracted with college and a boyfriend. Otherwise, you’d be dealing with a bunch of pups worried about you.”

“It’s not like you were worried. You just wanted to remove a threat like a good hunter.” Stiles rests his forehead against the cool glass and stares at the passing trees. “Kudos to you for noticing, old man. I’ve been able to fool everyone else.”

“Your father is older than I am,” Chris mutters, turning the car when the reach the highway they need. “I’m still old enough to be your dad, though. I _shouldn’t_ be noticing stuff, kid.”

“Why not?” Stiles’ fingers are tapping again, and he’s starting to wish he’d thought to bring a Red Bull with him. “You’re the big bad hunter. That’s your job, noticing shit and ruling out threats. You just didn’t know having an intervention with a formerly possessed teenager was also part of the gig.”

Chris shakes his head. “I don’t think licensed professionals would approve of weapons being involved in an intervention.”

“I’d disagree with them then. I’d rank it a solid six on the distraction meter, above running but below COD marathons.”

“Distraction meter?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve made a study of it since the whole…you know.” Stiles makes a motion with his hand. “Distractions are how I cope when it gets bad. These episodes don’t happen all that often anymore, you know? Not like they used to. This one is just taking a while to pass.”

“What’s your scale then?” Chris asks, and Stiles can appreciate the fact that he’s trying to distract him now that they’ve had a chance to put the whole ‘Stiles might be possessed again’ thing to a rest.

“The worst distraction is obviously no distraction at all. Sleeping, lying in bed, showering. That kind of thing sucks when it comes to getting out of your head.” Stiles smiles wryly. “Netflix is pretty good as long as it’s something interesting. Running works sometimes but doesn’t others. I’ve now added having a weapon pointed at me in the mix. Thank you, old man, for that addition. There’s video games, which work better than Netflix. Fighting is a nice outlet to direct some of the worst thoughts out. Top of the list has to be sex, though. Jerking off is alright if I can get lost in the fantasy without letting my focus slip, but a partner is the best.”

Chris clears his throat. “You use that option often? I didn’t think you were involved with anyone.”

“I’m not. I haven’t been serious with anyone since Malia and I broke up. I can usually pick someone up if I really need the distraction. I’m not as hot as the rest of the pack or even you, but I can make do.” Stiles snorts. “I’ve found that it helps being pan because I’m attracted to whomever I’m attracted to regardless of gender.”

“You can’t just go to bars and pick up people to fuck, kid. That’s a surefire way to catch something or get yourself hurt.” Chris slows down as they approach the entrance to the national forest.

“I don’t need the safe sex talk,” Stiles points out. “I’m extremely careful, and, besides, I never said fuck. I’ve got an oral fixation, and I’ve discovered that extends to all sorts of areas of life.” So, yeah, he’s deliberately being obnoxious, but Chris is being nosy and paternal, neither of which Stiles particularly likes. He sticks his tongue out and wiggles it. “My tongue brings all the boys and girls to the yard. Reciprocation is always cool, too, but I’m not greedy.”

“It’s dangerous. You don’t know if they’re even human. Why don’t you find one of your little friends and work out a benefits thing with them? Isn’t that common these days?” Chris looks as pained to be discussing this with him as Stiles is hearing it.

“All of my ‘little friends’ are dating other people, and none of them are into poly, sadly. Malia is the only single one at the moment, and, yeah. Past history there, old man.” Stiles stares at him a moment before his lips curve into a mischievous smile. “But, hey, _you’re_ single. Maybe I really can call you Daddy for an entirely naked reason?”

“You’re an insufferable brat,” Chris informs him, cold blue eyes staring at him across the car. “We’re finally there. Get out of the car and try not to get into any trouble.”

“Dude, I never go looking for trouble. It just usually finds me,” he mutters as he gets out of the car. The SUV is a little taller than his Jeep, so he stumbles slightly when he hits the ground, but soon has his balance.

“Alright there?” Chris asks, gun against his shoulder and another strapped to his thigh.

“Do I get a gun?” he asks, making grabby hands at the one on his shoulder.

“You haven’t slept in three days. What do you think?”

“You’re no fun. That’s what I think.” Stiles rolls his eyes as Chris tosses a flashlight to him. “Great, I get to be the keeper of the light instead of the hot ass with a gun. Just my luck.” He walks behind Chris as they make their way to the hiking trail, which makes no sense considering he’s the one with the light, but Chris shoves him back and he’s too tired to fight about the lack of logic. 

They haven’t even gone half a mile when Foxy Lady starts blaring from his pocket. “Oh, uh, oops. Should probably have switched that to vibrate, huh?” He pulls his phone out and slides his finger across the screen. “What’s up, foxy lady? Seriously? We just got here about five minutes ago. What do you mean what took us so long? Chris drove like a maniac, and we only stopped once. Fine. Whatever. This sucks. I’ll tell him.”

“What?” Chris is tense, standing as if he’s expecting some creature to attack them at any time. It’s a good look on him.

“That was Kira. She said that Scott and Jordan already took care of it. We’ve got the all clear to go back home.” Stiles sighs dramatically. “All that time for nothing. Don’t get me wrong. The threatening thing was pretty hot, but the whole heart to heart could have happened, oh, never, and I’d have been content.”

They start to walk back to the parking lot when Chris suddenly shoves him, which catches him by surprise. Stiles turns to glare at him, and Chris punches him. “That’s for putting yourself at risk by keeping all this to yourself and not sharing with your pack,” he says, dropping his gun. He unstraps the thigh holster then just calmly stares at Stiles.

“Fuck you. That hurt, asshole.” Stiles spits on the ground and licks his lip, tasting the tangy copper of blood. He doesn’t get why Chris is suddenly punching him, but he’s not going to just let him do it. He steps forward and swings the flashlight, but Chris is waiting for him. They struggle for a few moments, he manages to get one or two hits in, but then he’s lying down with Chris on top of him. The flashlight is beside them, dropped in the struggle, and he can see Chris’ face better in the glow of it.

“You need distracted, kid? I’ll distract you.” Chris kisses him before Stiles can say anything. A firm press of lips against his, teeth scraping, rough and desperate and…yeah, he understands now. It’s suddenly all clear, with the watching and old enough to be his dad and, fuck, he’s stupid. He returns the kiss, putting all of his anger and frustration into it, bucking up to try to roll them, but Chris is too strong. He’s got Stiles pinned down against the ground, rocks digging into his back, dirt and leaves behind his head.

When Chris pulls back, there’s blood smeared on his mouth, and Stiles’ lip is tender and hurts, but in a really good way if he’s completely honest. It’s twisted but true. Chris doesn’t waste time with foreplay or teasing. He unfastens Stiles’ jeans, shoving them down just enough to pull his dick out of his underwear. The look on his face is smug when he realizes Stiles is already half-hard. Stiles wiggles around until his underwear and jeans are pushed down more, dirty ground beneath his bare ass and rocks digging into his cheeks.

“I’m nineteen. I can get hard at just about anything,” he mutters, reaching up to grip Chris’ short hair and drag his head down. “Don’t take it personal.” He smirks before he kisses him, licking into his mouth, tracing his teeth with his tongue, deepening the kiss as Chris wraps his fingers around Stiles’ dick. There are callouses on his fingers, and it’s rough, no lube at all. Hell, Stiles would even take some spit, but the slow drag of rough fingers up and down is making him whine into the kiss anyway.

“You need this, don’t you?” Chris bites his neck, blunt teeth scraping his skin, stubble rubbing against Stiles’ skin hard enough that it’s definitely going to leave a mark. “Need my hand on your cock, my mouth on yours?”

“Me? What about you?” Stiles bucks his hips up, fucking into Chris’ fist. “How long have you been fantasizing about fucking me, old man? A few weeks? A few months? A few _years_? Were you thinking about it at the hospital that night so long ago? You had your minions with you. Bet you wanted to force me to my knees to show me who was boss even then, didn’t you?

“Bratty little fucker,” Chris growls, shifting his hips until he’s got Stiles pinned well enough that he can’t even move. Chris is hard, Stiles can feel it against his upper thigh, and he starts rubbing himself off. “Always mouthing off, never listening, but too damn smart for his own good.”

“Don’t you think it’s rather childish to avoid answering a question by trying to start a fight?” He laughs when Chris pulls his head up and glares down at him. “I didn’t hear a denial.”

Chris sneers slightly before kissing him hard, all teeth and tongue as he keeps rubbing against Stiles. When he suddenly moves down, it happens so fast that Stiles is caught by surprise yet again. He gasps when wet lips suddenly surround his dick. Oh fuck. He looks down with wide eyes as Chris sucks his dick. It’s definitely not the first dick he’s sucked. He’s too good at it for it to be his first. He’s using his tongue expertly and the suction is unbelievable, and then he’s teasing Stiles’ hole, and he can’t keep watching because he’s leaning his head back and thrusting his hips to get more of his dick into that hot wet mouth.

The finger at his hole presses in, just the tip, teasing him, making him regret taunting Chris about only doing oral because it’s like he’s deliberately fucking with Stiles by teasing him. Chris moves his other hand beneath Stiles’ shirt, rests it on his lower abdomen, palm against the trail of hair there, fingers splayed out as he tries to hold him down. Stiles loses himself into the sensation, rolling his hips up, fucking into Chris’ mouth as that finger keeps barely touching him, just teasing him. He’s babbling, not even sure what he’s saying, cursing and talking so filthy that he might even consider blushing if he weren’t being having his brain sucked out through his dick.

When he comes, he closes his eyes and grunts, back arching off the ground as Chris keeps sucking. Eventually, he becomes aware again, blinking dazedly at Chris, who has pulled off his dick and is stroking his own erection with quick and rough jerks of his hand. Stiles leans up and licks the head, tracing pre-come with his tongue. Chris makes a noise, and that’s the only warning Stiles gets before he’s coming, ropes of come shooting against his mouth and face, dripping down his lips, marking him. Claiming him, a voice whispers in his mind, making him his.

After, they’re both silent. Since they’re in the middle of the forest, there’s nothing to use to wipe off with, so Stiles gets up and dusts the dirt and rocks off his ass before pulling his underwear and jeans back up. There’s still come on his face, but he manages to lick up what’s covering his mouth. Before he can wipe off the rest, Chris is there, licking his release off Stiles’ face before kissing him. It’s a possessive kiss, making his intentions clear without speaking a word, and Stiles hesitates for a moment before he returns the kiss, accepting what Chris is offering.

Because, for the first time in days, his skin finally feels like it fits right.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me over on Tumblr [here](http://inell.tumblr.com/). Feel free to follow me and leave me prompts or just squee over mutual interests!


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